Holding on
by EruvandeAini
Summary: Alex is beginning to realize how important Gene is to her, perhaps even to her survival. But has she butted heads with him too much?
1. Chapter 1

**An idea that plays on the aggressive way Gene and Alex play off one another. I sort of know where I want to take it, but would appreciate feedback. Merci Buckup :-) Characters not my own, natch.**

Caroline Price traced a finger thoughtfully round the base of her wine glass.

"It seems to me, Alex, that you're a little distracted from what's really important to you."

Alex snorted and threw her head back, curls bouncing. "What's really important? I suppose you have it all in balance in your world?"

She couldn't help herself. Caroline was here, as real as any being could be, and yet Alex still thought of this woman as the imaginary mother she had internally railed at all these years. It spilled over in her words too much. Caroline blinked in surprise at the vehemency of the younger woman's response. She leaned forward to answer.

"Well, what is it you want to achieve, and who can help you? You seem like a woman who is reluctant to trust, but you must know that it's sometimes necessary."

Alex had been lifting her glass, and she halted at those words, remembering her last altercation with DCI Hunt.

"_Why should I trust you?" _She'd flung at him.

_"Because I do the necessary, Drake, and you don't have many other options right now."_

Caroline pulled her bag over her shoulder as she stood up. She paused and smiled. "I've got to go, Alex, really. But do call me. Whatever is troubling you, I want to help."

Alex rolled the coolness of the glass against her forehead, sighing. She knew what she had to do.

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The office was mostly in darkness now, except for Hunt's sanctuary. He was brooding over a glass of whisky, and didn't look up as she walked in. She had been rehearsing an apology, but her mouth dried up as she stood, arms folded defensively, and leaned against the doorframe. She coughed slightly. Hunt sniffed, turned his glass a quarter turn and then threw the whisky down his throat. He still hadn't looked at her.

"And what can I do you for, Bolly?" His tone was dismissive.

"I… I think maybe we should do it your way." It was an attempt to be conciliatory. She rubbed her hand against her white leather sleeve, nervously.

He pushed away from his desk, and put his hands in his pockets as he came over to her. His tie was loose, the top shirt button undone. She always noticed the details, and this imaginary world she had made was full of detail.

"Oh. You think maybe we should do it my way? I think you might be labouring under a misapprehension, Drake. I'm not sitting here waiting for you to come and approve me. I'm your superior officer, and what I think we should do, we do."

"That's not what I meant…" She began, but he cut her off.

"And further more, 'we' isn't accurate either. 'We' implies there's a team effort going on, 'we' assumes that your loyalties will lie here, not with whatever serves you at the time."

"What? In what way have I been self-serving, Hunt?" She lost the defensive stance and her hands went to her hips. "I've been 100 percent committed to bringing Drummond in."

"100 percent? I think your maths is a bit off, Bolly, I could have sworn you've spent at least 50 percent of your commitment on Caroline Price and that odious little toy boy of hers. I think that leaves you considerably less focused on Drummond or anything productive, in fact. If I didn't know better, I'd be wondering if you were actually her stooge, deliberately setting out to sabotage this investigation." He jutted his chin forward arrogantly.

"You tiny-minded bastard. I came up here to apologize and try and move things on."

"Oh, thank you, your gracious Pimms-ness, where would we be without your condescension?"

She felt the sting of the slap on her hand before she realized she'd done it. He grabbed her wrist on the backward stroke, and yanked her towards him.

"I am getting a bit bloody sick of you cracking me one every five minutes."

"Oh, really Hunt? I'm not tired of it yet myself." She glared at him, her own aggression somewhat fuelled by alcohol, and something else she couldn't place. Hunt didn't relax his grip on her arm.

"Are you trying to see how far you can push me, Drake? Because I really don't think you're too big to go over my knee."

She raised mocking eyebrows. "Is that right?" She sneered.


	2. Chapter 2

"Let me go!" Alex squealed, grabbing hold of the edge of the desk to leverage herself off Hunt's lap. "You are SO not going to spank me!"

"See, there you go again, Bols, you're drunk, you're telling me what to do, _and_ you're underestimating me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." He said smartly, one strong arm holding her place, the other resting casually on her backside.

"Don't you dare, you misogynist dinosaur!" She squirmed, her heart absolutely racing as she felt his hand lift. Oh, this was intolerable, her subconscious was a veritable pit of depravity.

"You're _daring_ me?" He said. She could almost hear him lift his eyebrows in the pause that followed.

"DCI Hunt, I mean it!" She injected all the commanding tone she could muster, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle herself free, his firm grip implacably holding her down.

"Oh, right, you really mean to dare me, eh, luv? You asked for it…"

"No!" She yelped as she felt his weight shift, his hand lifting further. "No.. no, Gene, please, this is ridiculous." She began to use a reasoning tone now that it was clear he wasn't going to respond to her indignant outrage. She felt him chuckle briefly, and she realized the bastard was deliberately milking this. He was just winding her up, seeing which buttons he could press. She steeled herself, she wouldn't give him any more bloody satisfaction, the sodding brute wouldn't get the pleasure of…

"Oh-ho, Bolly, Bolly, Bolly," He said, amused. "You say my name like that, I can just see you waggling your bloody fingers when you say it, and that's that very last thing in the world that would stop me wanting to slap your peachy backside for you."

She suddenly knew he wasn't actually just milking it or winding her up and _Oh!_ Good god, the sting of it! The sound of slap was like an enormous crack in the deserted office, and she sucked in a shocked breath and _bloody hell, he's going for another one! _His hand on her backside again before she could even cry out, she was breathless. She managed to yelp at the third stroke, and then

_Brrrrrr. Brrrrrr._

Hunt stopped, hand raised above his head, and reached over for the phone. "DCI Hunt." He said calmly, like there was nothing remotely unusual in having his DI sprawled over his lap. He listened to the voice at the other end of the line, and his arm slackened, releasing Alex. She pulled herself upright, out of breath, her face flushed. _Now why the hell was she nursing a sudden sense of disappointment?_

* * *

**yeah, yeah, I'm a meanie! Hopefully now the reason I ended the last section on the line I did has become clear. **


End file.
